


Blood on my name

by violawrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 05:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15767259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violawrites/pseuds/violawrites
Summary: It always ends in a fight for him, but that doesn't mean he likes it.





	Blood on my name

“It always ends in a fight.”

His voice sounds tired even to his own ears as he stands across from Steve. The expression on his face is part disbelief and all resignation when Steve tells him that this whole thing can end peacefully. Steve was always the optimist. The same serum may rush through both their veins but only one of them ever asked for this.

The fingers of his right hand pull off the glove on his left as he listens to the countdown coming from Steve’s comm device. According to whoever’s speaking they have about thirty seconds before special forces bursts through the door from whatever country is trying to find him this week. He knows they won’t take him alive and he can’t say it’s bad strategy. 

A grenade arrives via the window and without thinking he kicks it toward Steve, knowing that the Vibranium shield can handle the blast that comes moments later. The adrenaline begins to make its way through his body, but he feels oddly at ease. He’s been prepared for this since the day he moved into the tiny apartment in Bucharest, been ready to have his entire life ripped out from underneath him like some trick with a tablecloth and fine china gone wrong. All he has to do is take the backpack that’s under the floorboard that has everything he needs. The notebooks and the pictures and the protein bars that he bought will have to stay behind, but he knew there was always that chance when he bought them.

The men are on both of them before they even have the chance to get out of the apartment. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve knock one of them unconscious with his shield while he himself turns to slam a cement block into another’s chest. He’d like to believe when the man hit the door there was no lasting damage but he’s cursed with knowledge and knows better than that. Suddenly he sees an opening; there’s a few moments with no one between him and the exit, and he’s not about to let this opportunity pass him by. So he runs, picking up speed until he reaches the railing of the balcony and jumps. 

 

He’s been in Wakanda for three years. He hasn’t been awake the entire time but it’s long enough for him to consider it a home of sorts, with a daily routine and familiar faces. He’s even named the goats he looks after. There’s a tan one with a stubborn streak whose name is Steve and the children wave to him every morning when he leaves his hut. Time and the people in Wakanda are helping him recover and he’s learned to manage without his left arm. It’s safer like that anyway, but he’s starting to learn not be afraid of his own strength.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when his hearing picks up four sets of footsteps coming towards him. They’re unhurried yet deliberate and as he turns he sees that one belongs to the King himself. The two guards have already unlatched the box by the time he makes it to the top of the hill. 

His days under HYDRA’s control are for the most part still shrouded in the fog of his mind, but there are a few things he knows beyond a doubt. He knows about the stretches of time that would pass between assignments. Years, even decades where he was kept in cryo, mercifully allowed to remain ignorant of when the next mission was coming. It’s not until the light reflects off the vibranium as he approaches, the gold veins through black, that he realizes he remembers how it feels to be awoken for one purpose and one purpose only. The arm is a marvel of technology, he’s sure, but mostly when he looks at it he just sees what’s coming.

There’s no reprogramming this time and he’s not being forced to do anything against his will. But the carnage , the blood — it’s all he’s ever been good for. He guesses he never really had a choice. The words fall through the space between his lips with a sigh.

“Where’s the fight?”


End file.
